


Once Bitten

by birdcages7



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy is a werewolf, Billy is an irresponsible smoker, Blood, Blood Drinking, Choking, Fruit Punch is the superior flavour, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Robin is a ghost, Steve hates Twilight, Steve is a vampire, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdcages7/pseuds/birdcages7
Summary: The job itself was easy, so easy he could do it with his eyes closed. Stack shelves, wipe down surfaces sometimes, mop the floor, occasionally serve customers. Most of his night was spent flicking through magazines or watching the little tv that lived behind the counter next to the cigarette box. Of all his time on the planet, it was definitely one of his easier jobs. Most certainly one of the more pleasant ones, despite the rat problem out by the dumpsters and sometimes having to shoo off bored teenagers huffing paint cans.A.K.ASteve is a vampire who works the night shift in a gas station just outside Hawkins. A mysterious stranger enters his life. What could possibly happen?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 36
Kudos: 301





	Once Bitten

**Author's Note:**

> So this kind of just came out of nowhere but I had so much fun writing it and creating his little world where they all just exist in a gas station. Hopefully I got across everything I wanted to. I may write more in this AU yet but we'll see, I'll wait for a good idea to hit me. I didn't use any particular lore in their supernaturalness, it's kind of just a lot of things mashed together. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Gus’ Gas _ . The neon sign stood tall above the forecourt, just four pumps large. Sometimes it blinked like it was about to cut out, but it always came back on. Bright red, white and blue. A beacon to follow in the dark. One of the last independent gas stations in the whole of the midwest, built conveniently just outside of town. Driving out from Hawkins it was the last stop of civilization for thirty miles before the highway. In between was just dense trees and woodland. Most nights it was completely deserted, maybe one or two customers. But the neon stated ‘Open 24 Hrs’, so open it stayed. Apparently it was cheaper to just hire a minimum wage lackey than pay for a new sign. 

For Steve, it was perfect. Quiet and isolated. It was why he’d taken the night shift position in the first place. The job itself was easy, so easy he could do it with his eyes closed. Stack shelves, wipe down surfaces sometimes, mop the floor,  _ occasionally _ serve customers. Most of his night was spent flicking through magazines or watching the little tv that lived behind the counter next to the cigarette box. Of all his time on the planet, it was definitely one of his easier jobs. Most certainly one of the more pleasant ones, despite the rat problem out by the dumpsters and sometimes having to shoo off bored teenagers huffing paint cans. Having no customers meant no one was a regular, no one could ask any questions that could become problematic to both of their safety.

The last person to ask questions was why he had to move to Hawkins in the first place. It was a dead town stuck in the past, barely keeping up with the world around it. One diner. Two general stores. No name brand chains. Half of the stores in town had their windows covered by thin sheets of plywood, long since abandoned by their sensible owners. Some of the town’s citizens protested when a cell phone tower was put up on some farmland, saying it would cause radiation and lead to the government reading their most secret of inner thoughts to then sell on to the Chinese via the Russians. It was that kind of place.

It was  _ heaven _ .

Six nights out of seven, Steve would park his little yellow car out front and take over from a teenager that clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near Hawkins, let alone the gas station, never speaking. Just a small head nod and the kid was running off so fast you could almost see melted sneaker tread on the stained floors like tire tracks. This night was exactly the same. Steve changed into the company uniform, a gordy red polo that looked more like a bowling shirt, helped himself to a bag of peach ring gummies and an empty cup, and took up his spot behind the counter. A magazine was already next to him, a copy of Entertainment Today, pages gently being turned slowly seemingly by the wind even though the door was closed and Gus was far too cheap to install air conditioning.

“Long day?” Steve asked, ripping open the bag and wiggling a gummy on his finger to chew the flavour out of. Fingers slowly materialised as if by magic against the pages of the magazine, spreading down to reveal a young woman dressed in unsnapped dungarees and a green striped top, straw brown hair in a messy ponytail. A gentle blue aura surrounding her. The same as every night.

“The longest. That kid is so annoying. He doesn’t even react when I try to fuck with him anymore,” Robin spoke, not taking her eyes off the pages even though she was clearly bored, holding her head up with her free hand. 

Robin Buckley was an ex-employee of  _ Gus’ Gas _ back in the early 90s. She was murdered on the night shift by a tweeker robbing the register. She died alone trying to call someone for help. The tweeker got twenty bucks and was never caught. The next day Gus installed CCTV. Two days later her replacement was hired. The first night Steve started working he was almost spooked by bags of chips being thrown around by no one, the soda machine coming on and flooding the floor at random intervals, the refrigerator doors opening and slamming shut, getting locked in the supply closet.  _ Almost _ . But Steve had been around a long time, he was more than used to the company of ghosts. Steve’s previous experience had only been with crusty, stuck up spirits that haunted the castles his family liked to live in and howled about being heartbroken though. Or ghosts that were victims of plague, who howled about dying. Neither were very fun to be around. But, as ghosts went, Robin was pretty cool. She was easy to talk to and she liked to mess with people. It made time go just a little bit faster.

Steve slipped the gummy into his mouth to chew on. He couldn’t swallow it, frankly he couldn’t swallow much, but he could still naw things to suck the flavour out of them. Gummies were good because they lasted a while. Gum was good too. Everything else lost its taste too quick to be even close to satisfying. Robin stayed solid during the night shift, only disappearing when the very rare customer arrived.

“Think I’m gonna electrocute him tomorrow. Just a little. He keeps stealing hot dogs,” she said disinterested, still leaning on the counter. Steve looked over at the hot dog warmer, slowly rolling three said dogs in a rather sad fashion. He couldn’t remember ever cleaning it and he’d been here a year. He couldn’t even remember selling one, so god only knew how old they were.

“If he’s eating them natural selection might get to him first.”

Robin shrugged and walked through the counter over to the magazine rack to pick out something else to read.

Most of their shifts were like this. Once Robin had learned Steve couldn’t be fucked with, she’d given in easily, accepted him as a friend rather than a target. It was an unusual friendship sure, but it was nice. Nothing too stressful or chaotic. Safe. Just what Steve needed.

“I think my father might be dying,” Steve said out of the blue. Robin barely looked up from choosing between copies of US Weekly and Vogue.

“Shit, really?” She decided on Vogue and brought it back to the counter. Steve nodded and spat the flavourless gummy into the empty cup.

“Just a feeling...”

A vampire has one purpose on earth; to make more vampires. Some could argue the same about humans but they were far less likely to listen to that simple logic. Humans thought they had a  _ deeper _ purpose and they weren’t just animals like everything else. When a vampire is close to death, the ones they’ve sired, created,  _ bitten _ , feel a strong urge from within to claim someone. Anyone. It was similar to how human women were portrayed at 40  _ suddenly _ needing a baby in movies and on tv. Steve had explained all this to Robin when he first revealed himself for who he was, why he wasn’t freaked out that she was a ghost, when she had questions. She’d just laughed.

“So, am I gonna see you on the news soon then? ‘Local man goes on biting spree’?” She grinned. Steve chuckled and started on another gummy, licking the sugar crystals off his finger. The very last thing he wanted to do was go about siring, even if that was the whole reason he convinced his parents to send him to America in the first place. Really it was the whole reason why he existed. Carry on the proud Harrington vampire bloodline. He’d been on the shores nearly 200 years though and had never turned anyone. It was something he was quietly proud of. A real  _ fuck you _ .

“I think you’re more likely to see ‘local hicks protest new speed camera. It's stealing our souls!’”

Robin snorted and started slowly flicking through the new magazine. “You’re not wrong there…”

Around three am, an engine roared to a stop next to one of the pumps. The deep noise startled them both to attention. The machine it came from was a black pickup truck. It looked maybe new, Steve wasn’t great with models and makes when there were so many and they were constantly changing. Robin started to fade slightly, clearly curious about their customer, leaving only open pages as the man who was driving came inside and went straight to the refrigerators at the back of the store. Being the last stop, they sold a little bit of actual food, instead of just snacks. Mostly for campers. None of it was very good. Steve was almost knocked off his feet by an overwhelming smell of dog. Most normal people can tell if someone is a dog or a cat person by the animal leaving a faint smell on their clothes, thin little hairs, it's just part of having a pet. But, even with Steve’s heightened scenes, this was far too much. It was as if the guy had rolled in a kennel for weeks on end without showering. Robin must have noticed how he was rubbing his nose and disappeared completely, going off to investigate more, just walking through Doritos and candy bars like they weren’t even there. It was only when the man came back to come over to the counter did Steve actually get a good look at him.

He didn’t look well. Slightly pale for clearly being tanned, clammy skin, damp blonde curls sticking to his forehead, impenetrable aviator sunglasses welded high onto his face even though it was pitch black out for miles. He dumped an armful of raw burgers in shrink wrap packaging in front of Steve, turned and went back to clean out the rest of the stock. Steve saw Robin shrug faintly, still keeping herself hidden from this stranger, while Steve started ringing up twenty containers of burgers. Another ten when the man returned. The stench of dog was almost eye watering up close but Steve managed to keep his composure. He’d had decades of practice around people who thought strong smells got rid of diseases, a few minutes of canine wasn’t going to kill him.

“Twenty Marlbro, a lighter, and forty bucks out there.” His voice was gruff and strained, almost sounded as if it was about to crack deeper somehow. Steve didn’t react, even as Robin stood next to this man, her head almost on his shoulder, not that he would be able to feel it, squinting as if trying to read his mind. Steve turned to get the cigarettes and the lighter, processing everything through the register.

“Bag?”

The man just made a gruff noise in response and put a credit card on the counter. Steve resisted rolling his eyes or making a face. Really, no matter what, there was no excuse to be rude.

Unless of course, you’ve been shot point blank in the stomach. At least that was Robin’s excuse. 

The card went through without a problem and Steve handed over the bag of raw burgers. The man pretty much snatched them both and left without another word, only the bell above the door and a small crinkle of his leather jacket, ringing his departure.

“What the  _ fuck _ was that about?” Robin asked, making herself more visible as they both stared at him pumping gas through the large glass windows like watching animals at the zoo. The engine had barely roared into life again once the gas was dispensed and as quick as he’d arrived, the man was off, heading towards the highway rather than Hawkins.

“I’ve got no idea.”

\---

Steve was sat on a little plastic stool, chewing on Sour Patch Kidz, watching the news on the little tv, when they heard that engine rumble again three nights later. Robin looked out the window first, she was sat crossed legged on the counter going through a copy of Good Housekeeping on her lap so had the higher ground. She quickly faded, the magazine falling with a small thump onto the old vinyl countertop as the man came inside. Steve got to his feet to be a good attendant, silently spitting out the gummy into a cup, but the man looked completely different, he walked with confidence and swagger, back straight and proud instead of hunched over like before. He wasn’t clammy or sweaty or pale. He was practically radiating golden light as he picked up a bag of Cheetos, the XXtra hot kind, and a can of cream soda.

He still  _ stunk _ of dog though. Just now it was wet. Somehow that was worse and even more choking.

The aviators weren’t so glued to his face so Steve could see his eyes and he came over to the counter. There was a slit in his left eyebrow, it could have been a scar previously but it had faded to just smooth looking skin. Shimmering blue pools peeked over the top of the black frames. They were actually quite breathtaking. 

Steve quickly shook that small thought away and put on his Customer Friendly Smile as the items were put in front of him to be rung up.

“Twenty Marlboros as well please.” His voice was different too. It had lost that sense of being about to break in two. It was smooth and as confident as his walk. Thick like maple syrup. His accent definitely wasn’t from around here. Not even close by a hundred miles in any direction.

Another thought to shake away. Steve retrieved the packet from the cigarette box behind him and started ringing everything up.

“You just out here all by yourself?” The man asked. The confidence was maybe moving more into sleazy territory, but they were both at a rundown gas station at two thirty in the morning in a town that constantly had a weird fog around it. It wasn’t exactly the happening hotspot for the higher classes. Robin appeared behind him, scowling playfully and Steve had to ignore the chuckle in his chest threatening to rise up.

“Yup,” Steve simply said. “All on my own. The wonders of the night shift.” He looked past the man’s broad shoulders, covered by the same well worn leather jacket as before and straight into Robin’s pale eyes. “Not an ounce of intelligent conversation to be found.”

The scowl he received in return wasn’t playful.

“I don’t think many come out this far looking for that.” The man leant a little on the counter, handing over his credit card. Steve read the name on it this time, just doing his job checking it wasn’t stolen of course.

Mr William Hargrove.

Steve swiped it. He didn’t meet many Williams that wore leather. He didn’t meet many Williams period. Not anymore. It was something of an old name. Like Dorathy. And Tobias. Their fingers brushed when he handed it back and it felt like it was on purpose. It had to be. Steve felt a small tingle of electricity through his long dead skin that he didn’t feel with anyone else. Definitely not with anyone human. It sent his eyebrows almost into his hairline, struggling to keep Customer Service Friendly and not become Steve Harrington Weird.

William took his purchases and walked off with a casual wink behind his shades and a saunter of his hips. Robin materialised right next to Steve’s ear, standing  _ in _ him, which they’d spoken about before how that wasn’t really a cool thing to do, before the bell above the door had even stopped ringing.

“You  _ like _ him…” Her obvious smirk burnt Steve’s cheek it was radiating that much heat. He didn’t even turn as they both watched the truck rumble awake and drive towards Hawkins in less of a hurry than it had been leaving.

“I don’t like him. I’m… curious.”

“Uh huh, curious about his dick,” Robin said bluntly as she left his form and got back on the counter, picking up Good Housekeeping again like nothing had just happened. “Who likes Flamin Hots and cream soda away? Blegh.” She stuck her tongue out to effect and flicked a page. Steve stayed looking out the window for a while, rubbing his fingertip where they’d touched, trying not to let his mind run a million miles an hour.

“Yeah. Who?”

\---

“Listen, all I’m saying is if you  _ have _ to eat at work, maybe put a napkin in there beforehand?”

Steve looked back at Robin sitting on the counter from his place in front of the customer microwave, waiting for his food to warm through. Usually he ate at home, but tonight he’d overslept and didn’t have time. 

“No one’s gonna get sick,” he pointed out as it beeped to a finish. He popped the door open and placed the back of his hand on the blood bag inside. It still felt a little chilly, so he flipped it over and reset the timer for another quick minute.

“I’m not worried about those assholes. God knows what kind of crap is breeding in that thing. That new kid ain’t cleaning it and I know for sure you haven’t recently.” 

The previous teenager, Harry maybe? Steve had never learnt his name, had finally run off mid shift after Robin had written out **R U N** in cherry syrup over the floor in the exact spot she’d died. She was dramatic like that sometimes. Most of the time. The new teenager hired seemed just as hopeless, if not more so. Robin hadn’t worked out how to mess with him yet, but they both knew it would come.

The microwave beeped again, the bag was warm this time. Steve emptied it carefully into a polystyrene cup that was usually for the soda machine only, making sure to squeeze out as much as he could, before putting on a plastic top and stabbing it with a straw. He put the now medical waste in his pocket to throw out at home. Robin scrunched up her face in mild disgust as Steve took a long gulp. To an outsider it might look like a raspberry slushie.

A really  _ thick _ raspberry slushie.

“Where do you even get those things anyway?” She asked as Steve went back to his usual spot behind the counter, licking over his teeth and gums to savor it all as he set the cup down.

“There’s a guy online.” It was a simple answer but it was the truth. Look hard enough and you could find anything you wanted too online. It was so much more convenient that having to make blood packs and oaths to humans, going through stupid rituals and feeding off the same family line for centuries. It wasn’t as good as fresh stuff by far, it was like the difference between a handmade neapolitan pizza straight from a wood fired brick oven in the heart of Italy and an overcooked bagel bite, but the ease of purchase made up for that somewhat. He just had to put up with the town’s incredibly 1995 internet speeds. “There’s a website. It comes in the mail.”

“Wait, what?” Robin exclaimed, eyebrows high on her semi translucent head. “Serious? You just, like, amazon prime blood to your apartment? Isn’t that the tiniest bit suspicious?”

“I don’t send it to my apartment. I have a PO box near the hospital.” Steve had learnt his lesson on that small but often overlooked detail. It's partly why he had to relocate to Hawkins. That and the dead body. But these things happen when people don’t keep their mouths shut or noses out of business that isn’t theirs. It was self defence really. Self preservation definitely.

Robin gawked at him for a few moments before rolling her eyes, kicking her feet again. “You’re unbelievable Steven.”

A comfortable silence fell as they both watched old Wheel of Fortune reruns on the small tv, Steve drinking from his blood cup quietly so not to gross her out anymore. He wasn’t sure if she was actually repulsed by it or just playing a character, either way he didn’t want to weird out his only friend. Around three am they both heard that rumble again. The deep engine noise of the black pickup. Just like before they both looked outside and sure enough, there it was. It barely managed to screech to a halt next to a pump. Robin grinned as she disappeared. Steve moved his dinner a little more out of view, getting to his feet as William came barrelling roughly through the doors, still in the same leather jacket, quickly filling the small store with the same thick bouquet of labrador. Steve had to breathe out of his mouth so not to choke, but he could taste it on the back of his tongue. It really took away from the okay blood taste that was lingering on the back of his teeth. William was just as clammy as before, it not worse, the shorter hairs flat against his forehead and practically dripping as he dropped six packets of raw chicken breasts on the counter.

“Anymore out back?” His voice was worse too. More horse. A few words away from shattering apart violently.

“Sorry,” Steve answered, trying not to focus on a single bead of sweat rolling down his cheek that must have been annoying not to just swipe away. He started ringing up the chicken when he noticed William’s nose twitch, and even with those aviators pushed tight to his face, Steve could tell his focus was on the blood cup. It was hard and piercing, even through tinted glass. Robin was nowhere to be seen. Now of all times she chooses to stay invisible instead of creating a distraction. Steve swallowed and gently nudged it more out of view before carrying on like he hadn’t done a thing. Except William had seen, of course he had it happened right in front of him and Steve wasn’t the slyest of entities. He felt those blues hidden behind black glass bore a hole straight through him, splitting him open to find out his secrets. Steve put on that trademark Customer Service Smile like he didn’t feel he was under an intense spotlight that was burning him up via a spot between his eyes.

“Anything else?”

With a small twitch of his lip William backed off. It was subtle though. His shoulders went down but everything else remained hard and ready to pounce. “Twenty Marlboro and forty bucks.”

Steve was silent in his movements, he didn’t want to turn around to get the cigarettes but kind of had to, relying on his hearing for safety. William didn’t move. Steve was sure he didn’t even blink as he processed the credit card left waiting on the counter. He slid it back on top of the red and white packet. He didn’t have time to put the chicken in a bag before it was all gathered up in thick, leather clad arms, and William stormed outside in a hurry. He even had the audacity to light up on the forecourt, pumping gas like the world was ending.

“You know,  _ legally _ , you have to tell him he can’t do that.” Robin reappeared by the refrigerators, at the other end of the window, closer to the pumps to watch what was happening.

“Do you want to tell him that?” Steve asked when he regained the power of speech somehow. As intrusive as his arrival had been, William was soon off again, leaving behind skid marks on the asphalt and the thick husky scented air that Steve had to open the doors a little to air out. 

He was quiet the rest of the night, thinking. There was no way this William guy could have known what was in Steve’s cup. Not unless he’d seen it being made. Which was impossible. The cameras barely worked at the best of times, and hadn’t been updated since they were first installed, so they didn’t exactly do anything at all really. They were more of a deterrent than of any use. It wasn’t as if he could smell it like Steve could. He rubbed his fingertip where they had touched before, the memory of that little spark still fresh under his pale skin.

There were a lot of questions he didn’t have an answer too.

\---

“If you were a bird, what type of bird would you be?” Steve asked, sucking and chewing on a strawberry gumball loudly, pretending to read a book he’d brought from home. In truth he’d been trying to read it for six years. He’d been trying to read the same page for the last month.

Robin looked up from a copy of Rolling Stone to stare at him, blank and unforgiving. She did that when he did something stupid. “What’s my name, dingus?”

“I know your name is a bird, but that doesn’t mean if you had the choice you would be a robin necessarily. You could wanna be, I dunno, a turkey or something.”

Her eyebrows raised slow, just a little. Her voice was monotone. “A turkey?”

Steve shrugged but chose not to say anything else. He didn’t want to dig himself a deeper hole by picking another wrong bird.

“I’d be a raven,” Robin answered eventually, turning the page of the magazine. “They’re smart and tend to hang around total morons who need their services for one thing or another.”

Steve laughed sarcastic and silent to the air, it was more facial expressions and head movements to get his point across. But he knew she was right. She was right about most things. Even if she was stuck haunting a gas station in the middle of yokel land. Steve sometimes thought about her when he’s at home in his small apartment, granted freedom from the smell of grease and three different kinds of oil for a few hours, behind thick light blocking curtains. He wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t been murdered, what would have become of her. He normally settled on politics. She had a fiery temper but a sensible enough mind that would do great in debates. Especially against old white men who weren’t expecting a strong woman to put them in their place. The world really missed out on what could have been.

“If you were a bug, what bug would you be?” Robin asked, resting her head on her hand, looking straight at Steve from the other side of the counter, closer to the magazine rack. Steve leaned back on the stool a little to think. “Like, a lady bug, or a stink bug, or, oh, a firefly cause they’re kind of gli-”

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare,” Steve snapped, pointing a finger at her and pushing the gum into his cheek. Robin just grinned, trying to be innocent but there was no denying the intent behind that smirk. She let her face fall like a child being told off but her eyes were wild.

“Say what Stevie?” She asked all coy and shy. “I was merely going to say they’re kind of…” In less than a blink she was through the counter and next to his ear, zapped from one spot to the other, speaking hot and letting her tongue loll over each perfectly punctuated consonant, extending it for as long as possible, prolonging his agony. “ _ Glittery _ .”

Steve felt his skin crawl tight, his shoulder hitched high around his ears to try and block out the sound of that word. His face screwed up like he’d eaten something sour. Robin laughed harsh and gently floated away. Steve hated that word more than anything else. And he’d heard a lot of things and words and languages in his time, but that one word really stuck in his side more than anything else. He’d only mentioned one time, something about Twilight, maybe it had been on the tv he couldn’t remember what had originally brought it up, and that was it. Robin was instantly fascinated. It was something she could make fun of. A weakness. To the point where she stole a copy of the book from some kid’s backpack in broad daylight to see why Steve hated it so much. She’d devoured it in one sitting so on his next shift he was faced with a barrage of questions. She seemed really focused on the glitter part. Wanted to make Steve come to work during the day so she could check he didn’t sparkle like a discoball and the book was actually truthful instead of a bunch of weird made up lies.

He assured her that if he did come to work during the day he wouldn’t sparkle. Instead he would burn. Slowly. Painfully. Over many hours. Until he crumbled to dust to be carried away by the wind.

Even then Robin rolled her eyes playfully, muttered that she was only joking, but it was ammunition. So now every time she wanted to pick at Steve a little the G word was the instant red flashing button.

“You know I hate that word,” he muttered, getting control of his body again. Robin’s grin was on full display like a proud peacock.

“I know, but you compared me to a  _ turkey _ so you deserve it.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something in protest, but a low rumble came out instead. Well, it came from outside. That truck was back again. Three days later, exactly like before. Robin dissolved and Steve spat his gum into a cup, it was starting to loose its flavour anyway. He quickly checked the time on the register.

02:34.

More questions were adding to the ball of question yarn in his mind as William stepped through the doors like an ocean breeze. Steve coughed at the thick air of wet dalmatian that quickly filled every corner of free space. He had his glasses pushed up tonight, nestled into thick curls that looked freshly washed and dried. Steve watched carefully,  _ not _ staring, as he walked around the small alises and picked up a bag of bite sized peppermint patties, a can of Dr Pepper, and a packet of beef jerky. The smile he wore stepping up to the counter was wicked. Steve knew a lot about teeth, he kind of had too, and this guy’s were perfect. White and straight and almost glowing like they’d been professionally cleaned only a few hours previous. He was so transfixed for a moment it took Steve a while to notice he was wearing a large silver choke chain as a necklace. The type that had thick barbs along the inside to dig into a dog’s neck when they were misbehaving. It hung loose and heavy down William’s chest, against bare skin between panels of his open shirt. It rattled with every breath.

Steve had to force himself to blink to break the obvious stare, taking the small selection of items to ring them through the register. Pretended not to notice William licking his teeth and looking at Steve like he was food, an easy target. prey. Steve very rarely got hot these days, or any day in fact, but that look was doing it under the hideous bowling shirt.

The smell of wet fur got thicker.

“You here by your lonesome again pretty boy?” 

Something inside Steve wanted to melt at those words, at that voice just oozing sex appeal and self confidence. If he were weaker, mortal maybe, he would have easily fallen, would have been wrapped up in it like sheets of silk. But something in his gut didn’t sit right, and it wasn’t just a bad blood bag from his freezer that was maybe a little out of date. He forced himself to look William in the eye, really look instead of being hypnotised. His eyes were steely blue, hard, but around his pupils there was the thinnest line of gold, so utterly slim you’d be easily forgiven to even notice it at all. But it was there. And Steve had lived enough years on this earth to start knitting all the question yarn into an answer sweater. It was a few seconds of silent power play before he spoke.

“I’m here most nights,” Steve answered calmly. He didn’t verbalise anything, but he knew the truth. The dog smell and the raw meat. The sweat. His answer sweater was looking real nice and cosy. William didn’t back down, he just grinned wider, the corners of his lips stretching forever upwards.

“That’s a shame. Something terrible could happen, all the way out here…” He let the sentence just drop off, dripping with innuendo and empty promises. Keeping as calm as he could, Steve got the packet of Marlboros without being asked this time. He slid them slow over the countertop. William put his hand on his to take them. His skin was practically boiling over with heat and life. Steve could feel his pulse thick and heavy under the calloused pads of his fingers as they stroked the back of Steve’s wrist. He felt William press down a little onto Steve’s cold skin. Investigating. Maybe knitting his own answer sweater. Steve watched his pupils shrink then dilate in realisation. The pulse got quicker, heavier, harder. It made Steve’s mouth water. He swallowed fat but defiant. He wasn’t going to fall under.

_ I know your secret. Here’s mine. _

Steve moved his hand away first. “I’m pretty fast.” He stabbed at the buttons on the register and its usual dull noise rang bright and loud over the silent air that had settled between them. William handed over his card to be swiped.

“Most nights huh? I might have to come by more often,” he purred like velvet, picking up his few items to put into his jacket pockets before Steve gave back the card.

“Maybe you should. I’ll probably be here.”

William clicked his tongue and smirked before leaving to go back to his truck. In an instant Robin reappeared looking dumbfounded, like she’d just witnessed aliens beaming down, or Bigfoot running a roadside stall selling sandals.

“What. In the  _ fuck _ . Was  _ that _ ?!” She exclaimed loudly, arm extended to point with her whole hand out towards the truck that was driving towards Hawkins.

Steve turned his head to just smile at her, slipping on the cosy answer sweater internally. “That. Was a werewolf.”

\---

Werewolves were something of old. Like vampires. They still existed but, in modern times, had moved themselves to different parts of the world in packs, setting up hidden communities and communes. Usually in places with lots of open space to run and fight once the moon took hold. Steve had nothing against werewolves, he’d come across a few in his years, just the smell was a bit much. And there was something still quite primal about being controlled by an unstoppable force. In bygone days it was easy to pick them out from smell alone. But colognes and perfumes had gotten a lot stronger and more chemically, masking almost everything. As far as Steve knew there wasn’t a wolf community nearby Hawkins. They tended to stand out if you knew what you were looking for. Usually more than two gyms. Butchers and supermarkets with a large meat counter. Barbeque restaurants. Very unfriendly towards vegans. Not on purpose, just, biologically.

“So you guys don’t have like, turf wars and gang battles?” Robin asked when Steve was explaining what he knew to her. What he vaguely remembered. It had been a very long time since he stumbled across a wolf. Or since one had stumbled into him.

“Maybe centuries ago when everyone was fighting everyone else for land. Nothing really since the end of the dark ages.”

She clicked her tongue. “Shame. Thought you two were gonna scrap it out in the parking lot. Put on a show for lil’ old me.” 

Steve’s father would probably want them to fight. He was very old minded like that. Extremely proud of his heritage. Honestly, Steve could trace his family line right back to the Romans if he wanted too. They weren’t known as Harringtons then, obviously. But Steve wasn’t like his father, wasn’t like any of his family. They were all pomp and circumstance, lavish parties and just displaying wealth and power wherever they went, dripping in jewels and fine fabrics. Keeping Wannabe Bittens in cages to use as a food source, disguised as a test of loyalty and they weren’t just going to be sucked dry eventually. His third cousin lived the high life in a luxury mansion in Moscow, apparently had most world leaders on speed dial for decades just in case he needed a favour. He was the family favourite. The golden child. Constantly brought up at gatherings and in letters.

Then there was Steve, who worked in a gas station with a ghost that had a smart mouth, and lived in a studio apartment above a bowling alley.

He was much happier with his life.

Over two weeks William had visited a lot more frequently. He had his own space out front, next to Steve’s little yellow car. It wasn’t officially his but it felt like it. At first Robin would hide, until they worked out that even if she stayed visible William couldn’t see her, or hear her. Even if he did he just outright ignored her. So most of the time she sat on the counter while he picked up whatever excuse he’d come up with to visit this time, at whatever ungodly hour it was. Everyone needs Skittles at four in the morning. They were on first name terms too. Partly because Steve had to wear a nametag. William preferred Billy. He was a personal trainer in town.

Because  _ of course  _ he was.

He always wore the same leather jacket and was seemingly quite fond of the choke chain he used as a necklace. It was quite brazen really. Steve let him smoke in the store. The detectors were long since dead and it covered up the dog smell a little bit. Not as if there was anyone else around to be offended by it. Sometimes he even wore a full shirt, if Steve was lucky enough. Not that he minded looking at Billy’s carved chest a little. If Steve was  _ really _ lucky he would say something nice, and not just spew out innuendo ridden sentences like it was all he knew how to say.

It was stereotypical to say all wolves were stupid. The same way it was stereotypical to say that all vampires were smart. But it was abundantly clear to everyone with half a brain that Billy was a dog at heart, running on instinct more than thought most of the time, trying to hump anything with a pulse by trying to get it to lay down with his smooth words first.

Shame Steve didn’t have a pulse.

They never really spoke about knowing each other’s secret, it was just something they both knew. Out in the open to never be discussed. A fact of life.

Robin wanted to discuss it though. She was dying too. She observed their interactions like a scientist watching bacteria grow in a dish, hoping it was the cure for cancer. Nothing this exciting had happened at the gas station in the near thirty years she’d been stuck in its walls, just watching teenagers come and go after they couldn’t handle a little poltergeist activity. 

“He 100% wants your dick man,” she said as Billy got into his truck outside, flashing the headlights twice as a parting goodbye.

“He wants  _ any _ dick. He’s a dog. It’s kind of their thing,” Steve corrected, picking out a gummy shark from the bag hidden by the register to chew on.

“No, like, I know I’m long out of the game. Long out of it. And he’s like, a million percent not my type at all-” Steve rolled his eyes at that,  _ no shit lesbian ghost. _ “But if you batted your eyes at him just right he’d beg on his knees like a good boy.”

Steve bit the head off the shark. They were past their best but that just made them harder, more fun to chew. Did Steve want to make Billy beg like a good boy? Their hands did touch on the counter a lot, always done with purposeful intentions from both sides. Just the life that thrummed through him, just under his skin, it was powerful and mouth watering and dangerous. Steve didn’t want to have to skip town again, he kind of liked Hawkins for all its backwards problems. People left him alone. Didn’t even notice he was there to be honest. It was the best kind of town for people like him. Even if everyone else seemed to hate it one way or another. Sure the internet lines could be better, sure the infrastructure could be improved. But it had a weird charm to it. Plus it always got dark around six at the very latest no matter what time of year it was, so that was a big bonus.

The thought followed him all night, into the morning and back to his apartment. The thought of Billy begging on his knees for something he didn’t even know he really wanted. That stupid choke chain being pulled tight and the dull barbs digging into his supple tanned skin just enough to start cutting off circulation and breathing. To make him whine.

If Steve could get hard, he probably would have.

It would be real easy to get him to submit too, Steve had his ways. The old joke about vampires being hypnotists had a small grain of truth. It was more a smell, like a pheromone. A soft touch here, a gentle word there. It turned human brains to goo within minutes. Their teeth felt good too, some chemical they created in their saliva glands turning pain to pleasure. A wolf though, well they were different. They had their own hypnotic pheromones of course, much stronger and far less subtle. More of a cloud than a direct point of attack, sweeping away whoever just happened to be close by and fancied getting fucked in a ditch by the side of the street or in some gross public bathroom.

Steve flexed his fingers under his pillow. Sleep wasn’t going to come. Not just because of the sounds of thunderous balls being thrown down lanes and loud arcade machines whirling and singing were coming through the floor. He was too busy thinking about the possibility of having all that life and power coursing through him after one small bite. Just a nibble. Billy wouldn’t even know it was missing. Steve had never really  _ wanted _ to bite someone, it was something he just had to do as a child, learn the ropes, and now he didn’t have to do it at all he didn’t at all. It was so messy and barbaric. If you’re off by even a few millimeters your whole night is ruined trying to get the stains out of your clothes. But Steve wanted to bite Billy, wanted to sink his teeth into that broad shoulder, tear into the hollow of his collarbone, rip into muscle and drown in the blood that would pour out, knowing he could do it in such a way that Billy would howl for more, with his deep voice cracking apart under pleasure he had never felt before.

It made Steve’s teeth itch. Sleep was that much further away.

\---

“What do we think tonight? My money’s on Fanta Fruit Punch.” Robin was by the magazine rack, putting the adult titles lower down so customers that visited during the day would potentially get an eyeful of over-photoshopped, oiled fake tits. Steve never stopped her. It was pointless. She’d just do it anyway when he went home. Steve rubbed his thumb over his incisor, it was getting particularly itchy and throbbed a little like toothache when he wasn’t touching it. He’d nawed his hand at home to try and take the edge off but it somehow made things worse, so he folded up three pieces of watermelon gum to chew at the same time instead. It had been three days since Billy’s last visit. The time of the month where he was a complete physical wreck. The time of the month when the moon was starting to look a little too full in the sky. The time of the month where he wore a full t-shirt and did his jacket up to just under his chin. The time where he snapped and bit and bought out all the store’s meat and was generally a fucking a-grade asshole.

Steve knew it was coming. He wasn’t blind or stupid. He didn’t even have to look at a calendar to know what day it was. Just Billy’s eyes. That little slither of gold around his pupils would start to get fat, start to spread outwards until nearly all the blue was gone. A desert instead of an ocean.

It was his routine though. Turn up a disaster, disappear for three days, then come back like nothing had happened. Not butter wouldn’t melt innocent though because it would definitely sizzle in Billy’s pan. Every time he always picked out a different soda. It was never the same one twice. So, with nothing better to do with their endless amount of time, they’d made a game of it. A stupid game with no prize but it was something to do at least.

“Really? I was gonna go with grape.”

Robin made an amused hum when headlights pulled up outside. 02:37. He was running a little late today. The chain around Billy’s neck glinted in the harsh lights of the store, rattled and made his presence known. As if the bell above the door didn’t already do that. Robin grinned and floated through the stands to see what he was going to pick up, grinned harder when he was right. Steve rolled his eyes at her and mouthed  _ okay very good _ before Billy came to the counter with just one can of Fruit Punch. His eyes were almost completely sapphire blue, chest covered by a Pink Floyd t-shirt that had been ripped into a low v-neck. Definitely not a tasteful one.

“Good time?” Steve asked a little smuggly. As much as he didn’t care for his supernatural lineage, he was grateful his skeleton didn’t snap apart like a bundle of thin twigs once a month. He’d definitely gotten off easy with just the insatiable hunger for blood thing.

Billy shrugged, leant on the counter more, eyes turning deep and full of lust and luster. Sultry. The smell of wet dog was thick and hot this time, like Steve had stuck his head over a pot of boiling soup. Billy was using his tricks that he had to know didn’t work, or maybe after a change, he just couldn’t help. Steve didn’t bother to ask. The gum in his cheek was no longer doing the trick, his teeth throbbed to the point of pain now. Constant and blinding, stabbing up into his jaw. Becoming his one focus now Billy was so close. The grin he wore was devilish. He even had the audacity to roll his head to one side and bare his neck regardless of that stupid chain. “See something you want, pretty boy?”

Steve turned to spit the gum out, collect the cigarettes and breathe for a moment, rolling his tongue over his teeth like that would do anything at all and he wasn’t just avoiding the larger matter at hand. The small tv flickered the news. How long would it be before Steve was on it if he didn’t deal with this now?  _ Local man goes on biting spree. _ If he father really was dying like he suspected, it would only get worse. Worse in a humans couldn’t deal with very well. But Billy though. Billy was different too. And, if Billy wanted to play, maybe giving in a  _ little _ wouldn’t hurt. Just a little. Steve was sure he could take it. Wolves were notoriously strong. For the greater good. 

Steve turned back. Billy was still practically lying on the counter, face curled into a smirk. His jaw moved just slightly and he poked his tongue out. A small spot of crimson bloomed. He’d cut his tongue on his own back teeth. Steve could smell it. Copper and deep like a bag full of old pennies, but smokey and dark like a burning forest. It overtook the dog in the air by a long margin.

Wolves were always horny after a change. But offering yourself up to a vampire was something else entirely.

No. Steve was a goner now. The last little bit of restraint that shackled him fractured apart in great splinters. He reached down and wound the end of the choke chain around his finger, slowly pulling it tighter and tighter until the dull barbs sat against Billy’s neck, ready to press hard and sink in with one sharp tug. His eyes lit up in excitement. His smirk got harder. Steve could  _ smell _ how aroused he was. Steve wanted to say something clever, something witty to combat the weeks of terrible one liners he’d received but had no comeback for, but his tongue was tied in knots, brain far too focused on  _ food _ and  _ bite _ and  _ NOW _ to make any kind of coherent thought that would be worthy of this moment. So, instead, he pulled Billy up straight, one of the barbs clearly digging into his windpipe because he made the sweetest little choking noise as he stood to attention. Like a good boy.

Steve got them both into the supply closet without a fuss. It was a small room, just housing a mop, brush and cleaning chemicals. Sometimes the day shift teenagers smoked weed amongst the mop bucket and the roll of trash bags. Steve slammed the door shut and let his inner beast take over, it has been quiet and patient for so long and god did it was to wipe that smirk off Billy’s stupidly handsome face one way or another. He pushed the bigger man up against the wall with ease, brush handles clattering to the ground as he forced their bodies together in a brutal kiss. Well, not so much a kiss, more a fight of dominance. Billy’s hands grabbed roughly as Steve’s sides, fisting great handfuls of the stupid bowling shirt uniform. Steve forced his tongue into Billy’s wanton mouth, searching for that spot that was long since swallowed, but he could still taste its memory. It sent small sparks through his system, he felt like he was coming alive again after so many years of staying stagnant and good. This wasn’t good at all. The whole concept was a terrible idea that he knew would bite him in the ass sooner or later one way or another, but for now, amongst the heavy smell of bleach and little to no space he just didn’t care. He fisted Billy’s curls, pinning his head back against the rough bare wall to break them apart. The rest of their bodies stayed connected. Steve worked his thigh between Billy’s legs and he all but started  _ humping _ .

“Do it again.” Steve’s voice was dark. He knew that. His rational side wouldn’t even recognise it as his voice, but that part was on its long overdue thirty minute break. Billy laughed hot in his face and made a show of licking over his teeth slowly, cutting just the tip, only a little, on one of his back molars, sticking it back out for inspection. Steve couldn’t help the groan that escaped his throat, or the way he sucked on Billy’s tongue like it was his last meal. He felt Billy submit underneath him, gold sparkling like fire in his blues as his eyes fluttered closed, grabbing at Steve’s hips more desperately, lower down, to push his thigh up harder, tighter. Steve pulled at the chain again sharp when the spot ran dry. Billy choked on a moan as his head was pulled back. Steve followed the movement and pressed his nose against Billy rabbit pulse. It was right there, under thin tanned skin, just begging, pleading. Offering itself. Driving Steve more crazy than he already was. But no, necks were messy, far too easy to see. He let go of Billy’s hair and let his hands drift down with purpose, unbuckling those stupid tight jeans he insisted on wearing every visit. Billy’s pants were hot next to his ear, tongue still out of his mouth, hands working with Steve’s to push everything down and off over his boots, even fighting his way out of the leather jacket but keeping the remnants of the shirt still on. His cock looked painfully hard, thick and throbbing and shiny at the tip.

Steve didn’t care anymore. His world had gone dark, zeroed in on his target like absolutely nothing else existed. Because it didn’t. Steve sank to his knees, making a home between Billy’s tree trunk legs. He lifted the right one, bent the knee over his shoulder and pressed bruising kisses to the tight thigh muscle, sucking hard to leave marks, bring more blood to the surface, dragging his tongue and feeling fine hairs tickle. He glanced a look upwards when a hand rubbed flat through his hair, not grabbing or tugging, just holding for support. Billy was two seconds away from begging. Steve didn’t have that long. He closed his eyes that he was sure were shark black by now and sank his teeth into the rich meat. Blood flowed and pooled instantly. Above him, far off in the distance in another world, Billy moaned something awful. Somewhere between pain and exquisite pleasure, stop but keep going.  _ God please keep going _ . Steve felt his soul sparking to life with every mouthful, power and want working its way through every part of his body. He retracted with a slick wet slurp and glanced up at Billy again. He was looking down but his eyes had glazed over. Part of the spell. Steve smirked to myself and licked slow and firm over the puncture wounds, knew the feeling would travel straight to Billy’s cock, that twitched hard in response, leaked precum in a single translucent drop that stretched all the way to the disgusting floor under Steve’s knees.

He was gone.

Steve breathed heavy against Billy’s thigh for a moment, stretched his hand up to under the shirt to feel over that abdomen that had been taunting him for weeks. Steve felt scars both old and new, rough under his fingertips. He left his hand there as he took another heavy bite, higher up, feeling the muscle give way much easier than the first time. The difference between well done steak and rare. He drank slower, still just as hungry but that was his curse, able to think a little clearer now the initial edge had been taken off. Knew not to take too much. His brain was still swimming in a blood filled fog though. Crimson rolled free over his tongue and down his throat, sitting warm and golden in his stomach. Billy tasted like nothing else. Rough and sweet. Corked wine in an old cedar barrel in a long forgotten cellar. A forgotten hand tugged Steve’s hair weakly, gasps and moans entered his ears. He rolled his hand down Billy’s stomach, through thick musty curls and round the aching member. Billy choked on a noise he couldn’t contain. Steve made quick work of licking the wounds closed, they would both leave one hell of a bruise in the morning and got back to his feet, nudging Billy’s head up from its resting spot and he started working his hand. Really they both knew it would be a minute at most. Steve gathered slick on his fingers to spread up and down Billy’s thick cock, rolling his thumb through the weeping slit. Billy sounded like he wanted to cry, unable to keep anything he felt inside. Steve kissed his cheek, close to his ear, his free hand pinning Billy’s arm to the wall as he muttered the magic words, sultry and dark, flicking his stained tongue over a golden hoop.

“Good boy.”

Billy came with a shout. His whole body racked and shook with it. Steve kept him pinned to the wall, kept moving his hand to drag out the experience, milk everything and leave it in a puddle next to the mop bucket on the floor. Eventually Steve let go and they both stood, barely, panting each other’s air hard. Billy blinked back tears and laughed weakly. At what Steve wasn’t sure, but he was far too satisfied and  _ warm _ to care. They stood for a few moments more before Steve helped him dress again, loosening up the choke chain so he could breathe properly. He thumbed Billy’s strong jaw and kissed him small and sweet. A thank you.

“Bet you do this with all the boys,” Billy murmured horse. Yeah he’d have trouble speaking tomorrow too judging by the way he screamed.

“Only the ones with cockapoo hair,” Steve grinned. They only left the back room when both could walk with some level of confidence. Steve left the door open to air it out a little, god only knew what it would smell like to some poor teenager just wanting to go in there to huff glue on shift. Robin was sat on the counter, looking deeply uninterested at a copy of Progressive Farmer but turning the pages loudly, as Billy gathered his things and left with a wink.

“'Till next time pretty boy.”

Steve gave him a little wave and worked his tongue around his teeth, hands flexing by themselves on the countertop. He’d be tasting Billy for a good week yet. But he felt alive, unstoppable,  _ satisfied _ , on more than just blood.

“See, next time,” Robin started, still not looking up from an article about chicken rearing. “Maybe do that in one of your cars so I don’t have to  _ fucking hear it Steven _ !”

Next time. Oh there would be a next time alright.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr page.](https://bird-in-a-cage.tumblr.com/) Come hang out! Ask me stuff!


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